Lick Your Lips
by Bite-My-Heart
Summary: A troubled Castiel struggles with drug abuse and is ordered by law to live at a drug help center to control his problems. In meeting counselor Dean Winchester, he finds himself longing for a man for the first time in his life. The two enter a dangerous relationship of sex, depression, secrets, and above all else pain as they fight to hold onto what little they have left. Destiel!AU
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** ok! This is sort of going to be an angsty sort of fic as you can probably tell. If you have problems with the following please think twice about reading further.

List includes -Drug abuse, Physical abuse, Rape, Homophobia (at times... like once... oops), and/or Murder.

There won't be any self harm so dont worry about that. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy it! :)

* * *

Lick Your Lips

**Chapter 1**

**Home Is Where the Heart Is**

* * *

He couldn't even remember the entirety of the day he was arrested. Faint memories surfaced providing small glimpses into a dark room with concrete floors and the metallic taste of blood lingering in his bruised mouth. Not much else stuck with him. Perhaps the delicate scent of rain, or maybe even the smell of lavender, but it didn't matter; Remembering wouldn't get him out of his eight months at South Ridge institution.

"_Eight months…" _he thought to himself. That's two hundred and forty-three days. Two hundred and forty-three days without his brother Gabriel, or his single sized bed caked with crumbs and bad memories to fall back on at the end of the day. It seemed like too much.

Castiel grew quite in the back seat of the police car. Now that he thought about it, the feel of the crusted seat in which he sat sent shivers through his body as he continued to see double due to the lack of drugs in his system. He knew better than to hope for one of his brothers to show up and save him, but the hope still burned no matter how much reality he threw at it.

That day was hard. The hardest day he had ever faced. Harder than his first overdose, and harder than any beating his father could dish out. Withdrawal kicked in hard, and throwing up twice in the police car and three more times in his small cell in a run down precinct left him wishing he had died in that sealed off room with the smell of rain hanging over him.

With wrists burning from lacerations left by handcuffs, Castiel lay against the cement ground of the cell as he strained to remember what had happened that rainy day, but instead thought of his trial.

"Maybe I'll die," he thought. "Maybe I'll just fall asleep and not wake up."

But he wasn't so lucky. He never was and he never would be.

* * *

"Castiel N. Age twenty-five." The judge spoke with a booming voice that shook Castiel's confidence.

"This is the third time I've seen you in my courtroom," he said. "What am I going to do with you?"

"You could let me go," Castiel suggested, but his attempt at humor only landed him scornful looks from both his appointed lawyer and the judge that loomed over him.

"Is it true you do not remember the events leading up to your arrest Mr. Novak?"

"Yeah."

"Absolutely positive?"

"Yeah," he had replied, and it was not the answer the judge was looking for, but for the first time in his life, Castiel had told the truth.

"Due to the circumstances… I sentence you to eight months at South Ridge Rehabilitation Center," was the judge's final verdict.

Castiels heart sank into his stomach and burned as he swallowed hard. He expected prison, and so had his overworked lawyer.

"I'd rather go to hell," Castiel stated, but he was met with a shake of the judge's head, and the strike of a mallet on its wooden podium. Suddenly, Castiels lawyer leaned in close to his ear, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You wont have to look far for hell where you're going," he warned.

* * *

Five days passed since the trial and Castiel was in the hospital the entire time. No one visited. Not a single brother. Not even Gabriel showed up, that is until the sixth day of diets consisting of stale bread and watered down soup had passed.

Gabriel was not happy, and Castiel's amnesia proved to be a bigger problem then he had originally thought.

"You've got to be kidding me Cassy. You can't even walk down the street without fucking up," he had yelled.

"That's not true," Castiel replied calmly. "I just… can't remember what happened."

Gabriel looked down at his younger brother with heavy tears swimming in his eyes, but he did not let them fall. He didn't want to see his brother hurt any longer, and he knew what he had to do to protect him.

"When you're out of South Ridge, don't come back," he said, and Castiel's heart dropped even further into his stomach.

"Where else will I go?"

"Anywhere that dad isn't you hear? Just don't come back."

"Gabriel please," he begged. "Please."

"Don't fucking come back." Gabriel finished, and the words stung Castiel deeper than the IV drip burning into his arm.

"You'll just let me fucking rot then..." he had stated rather than asked.

"Just- Just don't come back." Gabriel repeated. He turned and walked out of the bleak room, leaving nothing but a painful emptiness that Castiel knew he would never forget.

* * *

Being escorted to a drug help facility in the back of a police car was the last thing he wanted. The sting of Gabriel's warning to not come home after his eight months at Hell made him sink deep into the rough seat as he peered out the window and into the rain. Grey sky's released a downpour that beat against the metal roof of the car so hard Castiel thought that it might tear through it, but surely enough, the car twists and winds its way through broken streets and emerges at South Ridge institution.

Large chain link fences surround the facility, and men with short hair and rough skin stand guard, each supporting their own clouds of smoke between yellow teeth as they watch Castiel roll up in the back of his battered police car. The policemen driving step out of the car to speak with the guards, and Castiel feels that his wanting to go to prison really was a better thing for him.

He looked down at his hands as he quickly lost interest in the conversation the officers and guards were having. Mist sprayed his face through the door left ajar from the officer who failed to close it properly, and the cold made a long suppressed memory claw its way to the surface of his mind.

His first overdoes. Black dots danced across the room, and he lay paralyzed for a moment, maybe more. Gabriel, he remembered well, Gabriel had come to found him, picked him up, dragged him all the way home, and ran cold water over him from their rusted shower for what felt like hours. He was sixteen, and his brother twenty. It was a day from hell. He could still smell the pipes and musty water as his heartbeat grew stronger. He loved Gabriel, and Gabriel seemed to be the only one one who loved him, or at least he thought.

_"Don't come back," _he had said. The words replayed in his head over and over again, and the pain was still all too fresh.

"Don't worry," he said aloud. "I wont."

A knocking on the fogged window beside him made him jump in his seat. Old scabs rubbed against the inside of his orange jumpsuit causing blood to gently trickle down the side of his arm against the door. Looking up and out the window, he saw the officer that drove him to the mouth of Hell standing just beyond the door.

He threw the door open, causing Castiel to fall on his shoulder on the cement at the officers feet.

"Up!" He shouted.

Murky water soaked through Castiel quickly as he lay in the rain with his hands behind his back. His hair became black with rainwater and his jumpsuit clung to him as the officer bent down and gripped him by his arm over an old bruise.

Castiel winced as he was pulled to a sitting position, then to his knees, then to his feet.

"Scum like you should rot in places like this," the officer said. For some reason, Castiel knew that he didn't use the word 'scum' to represent him as an addict. Perhaps it was for something darker, something from the days earlier that he couldn't remember. What was it about that night that had everyone so riled up?

"Fuck you," he sputtered, and the officer's response was a hard tug of his arm in the direction of the chain link fence. He threw him to the guards and turned without a word.

The smell of smoke washed over him as he closed his eyes and stumbled up the stairway that lead to his knew home for the next eight months.

No light from the sun pierced through the clouds on that day, and it was certain that Castiel could not see any light in his future.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thanks for the review MariMagda :) yeah I've been seriously meaning to write this waaaaay faster so sorry for making people wait... I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint! I'm excited to start writing the... Shall we say... More_ explicit_ chapters... :) Anyway lets get going with the story!

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**Under Your Skin**

* * *

"You'll get your normal close back today but you wont be allowed to wear them for forty-eight hours due to protocol issues," a snarky and tired woman barked at Castiel. Her name tag read Naomi. Castiel quickly decided he didn't like her at all.

"sign here… That's right… And here," she ordered.

Her thick red painted nails clicked against the desk at which she sat as she watched Castiel with guarded eyes.

Still wet with rainwater, Castiel slowly limped his way in the direction that the guards directed him. The smell of smoke still stung his nose as the two gripped him tighter and tighter on their way to his room.

Dark corridors dimly lit by refracted light from the rain against the barred windows were the only thing guiding him on his way.

He clutched at the freshly laundered black hoodie in his arms. Its familiar scent of home masked with cheap detergent and an odd tinge of lemon. He was happy that a few of his own clothes were brought to him since they could distract him from the pain he was in.

Rain continued to beat against the fragile windows to his left, but the sound came only as a numb ticking to his exhausted ears.

A hard left followed by a sudden stop brought him to a hallway lined with dark grey doors that stretched for what looked like miles ahead of him.

He swallowed hard as he squeezed his hoodie tighter and went to rake a hand through his unruly hair, but was stopped by one of the guards.

"Keep moving," he said. Castiel thought of fighting back, but his upset stomach begged him to just let it go and find a place to rest.

Stopping at a particularly cracked and faded grey door, one of the men pulled out a set of keys. With a loud click and a grunt of effort from the bigger guard, the thick grey door swung open. A hand behind him sent Castiel stumbling blindly into the room.

"Lights out in ten. Wake up call at 7:30 in the morning," a guard said. The door slammed shut, and a long suppressed sadness crept back into Castiel's heart. He wanted to scream, to cry, to break every window and object in his path as he forced a better life onto himself.

But of course, he did no such thing. He found his way to a small bed in the center of the room positioned against the wall, and sat at its edge. Its solid metal frame chilled the backs of his legs as he closed his eyes and simply listened. Strikes of lightning came in odd increments that Castiel counted gladly in order to keep himself busy.

He did not study his room as he sat in darkness, and as he smoothed his dark hair out of his eyes, he found that he couldn't tell the difference between his tears and the rainwater still clinging to his jumpsuit. He felt stupid for crying, but fuck it. Today was the start of a new life that Castiel wasn't entirely sure he was ready for. He knew that he was strong, stronger than anyone he had ever met, but this was on a whole other level.

As he slowly lay back down against the crisp sheets that felt like paper beneath him, he breathed in deep through his nose, and let the air escape slowly between his gritted teeth.

As he forced himself to sleep, he couldn't help but once again wonder just what had happened the day he was found passed out in wherever the hell they found him. He only hoped it wasn't as bad as everyone made it out to be.

With a final scratch of his nails against the insides of his arms, he finally found rest.

* * *

Bright sunlight coaxed him from a dream of his father coming home to find him sitting crossed-legged on the ugly green shag carpet of their apartment. A cold sweat had broken out across his body, and he struggled to maintain a normal breathing pattern as he shielded his eyes from the sun coming in through a small window behind him.

He had remembered every bad thing he had gone through while living with his big family in that two room apartment. Maybe the bright sun woke him from his dream to tell him of the fresh beginning this place could offer him. He didn't entertain the thought for long however, since a loud click followed by the slinging sound of his door made his muscles tense. In walked a very tall, very thin man, stomping through the quickly unlocked door with a grin on his face. His long fingers curled in on themselves forming fists as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Castiel," he said. "You've got a weird ass name kid."

His voice sent shivers down Castiel's spine as he forced himself to shake the sleep from his head and sit up.

"You've got a busy day," the man said. "Breakfast is in half an hour. You'd better get ready. Change out of those old clothes."

The man produced a knew orange jumpsuit from what seemed to be thin air as he stepped closer to Castiel and threw it on his lap. The corners of the man's lips twitched as he looked down and into Castiel's grey eyes. 'Yuck' was the only word that came to Castiel's mind as he looked the man over from head to toe. His name tag read Alistair. He hated that name, and he would remember to avoid him as much as possible.

* * *

Castiel sat by himself in the large, pale white room filled with tables at odd angles. Sunlight streamed through the numerous glass windows and bounced of the white tiled floors and white walls and white tabletops, providing a perfect veil of light all around him.

A migraine tore through his skull like a bullet as he rubbed in vain at his temples. He didn't want the cold meal in front of him. He didn't _want _anything. At this point he only needed death or drugs, and in reality both offered the same feeling.

A cold hand gripped his shoulder through the light and the noise of the other _inmates_. He turned to find Alistair in all his skinny glory standing behind him, and the hurt in Castiel's stomach at the sight made him almost vomit.

"Are you sure you're up to eatin' here Castiel?" he asked. His tongue swept across his lower lip almost seductively as he continued to squeeze Castiel's shoulder.

Castiel went to speak, but a burning in his legs and stomach kept him quiet as he bit the inside of his cheeks.

"Why don't you just-"

"I don't need someone to hold my hand while I'm here," Castiel spat back. Just speaking to Alastair made his mouth go dry and vomit boil in his stomach. Alastair looked less then pleased to hear his response.

"Now listen here Castiel," Alastair began angrily. Castiel waited for him to continue, but after a few moments of silence, Castiel gathered up the courage to look up through the blinding light and into Alastair's eyes.

He wasn't looking down at him anymore, and the more time that passed the less Castiel felt his hand gripping his shoulder.

He squinted, and followed Alastair's gaze out into the wilds of the room, and calmly walking towards them was a person straight out of what Castiel thought would be a modeling magazine.

Time nearly stood still as his world blurred.

A simple man, with hair the color of burnt auburn against a black sky and strong features blessing his body.

He swore to fucking God if all of that movie crap was real there would be sparks flying and a Coldplay song blasting all around them as they passionately walked closer to each other. But there was no music, and there sure as hell weren't any sparks.

Castiel never believed in magic, but looking into the brilliant green eyes before him made something deep within him flinch at their brightness. This moment was better than any late night out with Gabriel, or the rare fit of laughter between him and his friend Anna. Again he found the man's green eyes, and stared far longer than what others would deem respectable.

He looked to his chest, and saw a clean white name tag pristinely pinned to the pocket of his royal blue button down shirt. The name read Dean.

"_Dean,"_ Castiel thought. "_The name suits him."_

"Al," Dean said with a smile as he reached the two of them. "Maybe you should let our friend be. You know? I'm sure he's uh, very tired."

Alastair crinkled his noise as he frowned at Dean before smirking and giving his head a shake.

"Fine fine have it your way then," he said. He turned without another word and walked away. The air still smelled of the horrifying man and it made Castiel's insides hurt. Turning back to look Dean in the eyes, he found himself feeling a nearly painful _something_ swelling in his chest. What was this feeling? He had never felt it before, but looking into Deans green eyes he knew that the feeling was more divine than any other he had ever felt. And it scared him.

He watched Dean with wary eyes as he studied his face. He swallowed hard as Dean began to speak, but no words seemed to be leaving his mouth, since all he could focus on was the gentle motions that his mouth kept making when he periodically smiled genuinely between words. The freckles scattered across the man's face looked like stars against a sunset sky, and as odd as it felt for Castiel to think in such a poetic way, he couldn't help it when he looked at the seemingly perfect stranger.

This Dean, he was sure to get under his skin. But in all honesty, if he had his way, he would get under his. At least he would if he wasn't scared senseless by his nearly instant feelings of indescribable _something_ for him.

* * *

**Next Chapter:** Castiel meets a boy named Samandriel in a time of need, and an odd friendship seems to be on its way to development, until disaster strikes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Dead Man Walking**

* * *

"Castiel? Hello? I mean you are Cas right? Sort of a funky name." Dean stated awkwardly, his voice deeper than Castiel had originally anticipated.

"Yes," he said quickly, straightening his back as he cleared his throat and poured all his attention on Dean.

"Yes…" Dean said. "Just yes?"

"Yes," Castiel replied. "Just yes."

"Right," Dean said as he bit his lip. "Well if you have any trouble with Alastair again let me know because I'm always around _somewhere_. Trust me. You don't want to let him walk all over you. He won't stop."

With this he turned and walked away as if he hadn't just miraculously made Castiel's day just a bit more bearable with him simply drawing breath.

He felt stupid for watching him go, but something about Dean was magnetic. Seeing him stop suddenly and turn around to face him, Castiel straightened his back and cleared his throat once again. Dean was making odd gestures with his hands, and Castiel's sensitive eyes couldn't quite make them out through the light. Dean, in seeing Castiel struggle to understand him, finally shouted, "eat!" He smiled again, and walked away, pushing through a pair of glass doors and giving a serious smile to a guard who let him pass without a word.

Castiel looked back down at his plate, then back up at the glass doors Dean had walked through. Withdrawal was not something to take lightly, and having not eaten for the last few days, his stomach was doing what felt like literal flips inside of him.

He stared at the raw baby carrots and the plain muffin in front of him with hollow eyes as he began to itch at his arms again.

He should eat, but nothing in him actually wanted to. Something about Dean telling him to eat made a small part of him smile through the piercing pain of his surroundings. He had no one. No one who cared about him, but perhaps with Dean he would have a friend who could genuinely, for lack of a better term, _care_ about him.

Castiel scratched harder at the burning sensation in his arms, and blinked a few times before slowly picking up the muffin in front of him.

His hands shook as he brought it to his mouth, but he ate. In fact, he hadn't realized just how hungry he was till that first bite. It seemed that just the thought of Dean could make him do anything.

* * *

An hour had past since breakfast had ended, and Castiel spent the entirety of the time in the bathroom throwing up. His throat burned as more and more bile came up from his stomach and left his body.

For some reason, through all the hurt and discomfort, he vaguely remembered an awkward encounter with Alastair as he stumbled his way to the bathroom.

"Don't get lost," he grinned. "You need to get to room one o' eight pretty quick if you don't want to be _punished_. Don't keep your counsellor _Dean_ waiting."

Castiel almost laughed at the thought of there being a worse punishment than being forced into this place and kept away from any possible form of relief, but he would rather throw up in a bathroom stall than the middle of a hallway.

_'Dean,'_ he thought to himself._ 'That's a damn good name.'_

He leaned his head against his arms which were folded against the toilet seat as he continued to hear voices around him. Through the intense deliria he couldn't make out whether the voices were in his head or part of reality, but he chose to believe they simply weren't really there.

"Please god," he said. "Just- just give me a break. Please."

He tried hard to stay conscious as he forced himself to stand. He supported himself with a hand against the scratched walls around him, and he closed his eyes as he strained to block out the chorus of voices yelling in his ears.

A sliding sound against the ground made him open his eyes as he gasped at the sight of two pills, one blue and one orange, rolling across the floor and hitting his feet.

"Take them," a voice whispered. "It'll help, I promise. Take them."

With his better judgment clouded with near hysteria, he slowly bent down and picked up the pills.

"What… What are these?" he asked as he took a quick sniff of the pills in his hand. He was met with no response, and the person the voice belonged to seemed to have left him alone.

He frowned at the dots in his hand, and shoved them into his mouth, and his mood lightened at the familiar taste.

Suddenly, a young man opened the stall door, and Castiel once again found himself flinching at the fluorescent light funneling into the space around him.

"Samandriel." The boy said, he couldn't be more than eighteen years old. "Just call me Sam."

He held out a scrawny hand as if Castiel were to shake it as his lower lip quivered. He had bruises up and down his arms and a split bottom lip, but what surprised Castiel the most was his reluctance to put pressure on his right foot. It was obvious as day. Someone wasn't treating this kid right.

"Sam," Castiel repeated, happy to feel the knots in his stomach relax and fade. "Sam what did you give me?"  
"Adderall," he said. "And some Norpamin. For depression and stuff."

"Sounds toxic," Castiel concluded.

"But you feel better don't you?"

"Well, yes. Yes I do. Thank you," he finished. His head began to swim as all the pain in his body slowly eased away. He had done worse before. Shot himself up with whatever his older brother Luc would bring home just to take the edge of the painful thing that was life. How dramatic.

Samandriel smiled and licked at the blood that had dried on his lips. He seemed nice enough, and as to why he was all torn up lead Castiel to believe that the tired looking boy was less of a criminal and more of a punching bag.

"So how long has it been since you last used?" he asked innocently. It wasn't a question Castiel looked forward to answering.

"A few days," he said.

"Woah. And you haven't been feverish. Wait. I mean obviously you have been. I mean-"

"It's ok. Relax," Castiel said, though it felt as though it was meant more for himself than Sam.

"Right right," the boy said. "Well, you shouldn't tell anyone that I got you those pills."

"Of course not. I promise," Castiel said honestly. He understood that distributing drugs in a place like this must have been a serious crime. He wanted to ask where the boy had originally gotten them from, but decided not to put him on the spot to early on in their… Friendship?

"What time is it?" Castiel asked.

"Uh," Sam stuttered. "It's uh, a little bit past noon I think."

Castiel's spirits fell. Of course it was that late. He must have spent more than an hour throwing his guts up, and if what Alastair said was true, he would be in trouble.

"I have to go," he said blatantly. "Thank you again."

Sam looked a little melancholy to see Castiel edge past him and towards the door, but he understood that time was a valuable thing in this place.

"You know. I never got your name," he said.

"Sorry, I'm Castiel."

"Well birds of a feather flock together right? I mean weird names and drug problems, funny because my mom thought that an angelic name would bring me good luck," the boy chuckled. Castiel however did not laugh.

Samandriel looked a little apologetic as he once again licked at his sore lip and went to say something that may lighten the mood.

A loud crashing sound made both of them jump out of their skin.

And in walked in the most horrifying person either of them knew. Alastair.

"I thought I saw you crawl in here, I've been looking everywhere for you!" he yelled. The anger in his voice sent chills running down Castiel's spine. It reminded him of his father.

He took up a defensive stance, but everything changed when he realized that Alastair wasn't looking at him. He was talking to Sam. Poor, scrawny Sam, with bruises all over him. Now Castiel understood why Sam was hiding out in the bathroom. He was hiding from Alastair.

"Al!" Samandriel whimpered as the man began to trudge toward him. His body tense with anger as Sam involuntarily coward backward with his hands near his face.

Castiel's first instinct was to back away as well. He had been beaten in almost the same way that he was sure Sam had, and he knew not to get in the middle of it. But something made him stand tall and plant his feet in the ground. He couldn't move out of the way. The only thing he could do was grab Sam as quickly as he could by the wrist and pull him behind him.

"Stay back," he said calmly, though was collected on the outside, his insides were screaming.

"Castiel no please. Please don't stay please don't do this," the boy begged, and his pleas only made Castiel angrier as he stared down the shocked Alastair standing in front of him. Alastair let out a loud laugh as his face brook into a smile.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked menacingly.

"Stay away from him," Castiel said unwaveringly.

Alastair's joking smile slowly dropped from his face, and Castiel felt Sam cringe behind him as he pulled gently on his shirt.

"Castiel please…" he whispered. "Just leave, I don't want you to get hurt."

Castiel ignored him as he balled his hands into fists. There was no way he would idly let someone get beaten as he stood on the side lines. He had been on the receiving end of situations like these, and as much as he wished for no one else to get hurt, what really pained him was others reluctance to take a stand. So he would instead.

"You leave him_ alone_," Castiel said as he stood a little taller.

"Excuse me?" Alastair said with anger creeping into his voice. It shook Castiel down to his core to hear such a tone coming from a person, but he couldn't let the cowering boy behind him know he was afraid.

"If you want him you'll have to go through me," he stated.

Alistair's sense of humour was gone. He stood angrily with hate in his eyes as he emanated destruction.

"You're gonna regret saying that," Alastair said as he took a quick step towards Castiel, and completely flattened him with a punch to the side of the head.

He saw stars, and before he even knew what had happened, he had fallen sideways and hit his head on the stall door beside him. Alastair had moved so fast, it reminded him of the animals he used to learn about on the television that could see in the dark and rip through prey in seconds.

He opened his eyes to find Sam putting his hands to protect himself from his inevitable beating, but Castiel pushed himself up off the ground and ignored the taste of blood in his mouth.

He jumped forward and tackled Alastair with a heavy grunt, sending him into a mirror that cracked against his skull.

Castiel once again looked back towards Sam, but Sam didn't return a look of concern, his eyes were still glued on Alastair as he pushed away from the mirror and kicked Castiel hard in the stomach. He kicked again, and again, and stomped down on his ribcage as Sam fought through his fear and tried to reason with Alastair.

He was rewarded with a backhand to the face. He would have left the ground if it weren't for the surrounding walls that caught him.

Alastair brought a hand up to his head and cursed at the pain from hitting the mirror. Turning his attention back to the horrified boy beside him, he grabbed him by the back of the neck as if he were just a stupid animal.

"I don't appreciate you running off!" Alastair laughed. Sam only squeezed his eyes shut as he let himself get pushed and pulled under the weight of Alastair's arms.

"If I say to meet me at noon, you _meet me at noon_! Fucking moron!" he yelled in the boys face. "Oh you'll regret disobeying me…"

Alastair grinned as he looked down at Castiel by his feet.

"And you!" he yelled as he pointed a long finger at Castiel's chest. "You're a dead man walking!"

With his final warning, he turned with Samandriel still caught in his gripped and pushed through the bathroom doors.

Castiel could still hear Sam's cries as he tried hard to forget the sound of Alastair's fists hitting him hard in the face.

A painful lump of fear began to form in his chest, and he pushed back tears as he pushed himself to stand causing his ribs to shift and pull at each other. Finally standing, he looked at himself in one of the mirrors.

A deep red mark had formed on his face under his eye, and he was sure it would bruise. A cut from when he fell stung his arm as his nails dug deep into his hands out of anger.

Someone had helped him in the only way they knew, and for their efforts they nearly got the shit beaten out of them – or at least they would eventually. Castiel had seen this all to often, so he decided that one day, he would give Alastair a taste of his own medicine.

For now he would act as if nothing happened. He would go to his group meeting, and be sure to somehow give Samandriel the much needed comfort he is going to need over the next few days.

He would be patient.

But right now, he only wanted to see Dean.


End file.
